She Grows on You
by Arizo
Summary: The Scarecrow and Poison Ivy are dating. Follow them through their first year together. First in the RISE-verse series.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

**Thank you for giving my story a chance. I hope you like it.**

Despite what Hollywood said about thunderstorms and mad-scientists, Crane did not particularly care about them. That was not to say he disliked them, they just did not hold his interest. True, a percent of the population had a phobia of thunderstorms, and another percentage were afraid of them but as Crane had no test-subject with either, he couldn't exploit the current storm that raged outside.

Therefore, Crane's psychological thriller, with its brilliant serial-killer, held his attention. Chances are it would have continued to hold Crane's attention until he finished it in the early hours of the morning had there not been a knock at his door.

No one knocked on Crane's door, save his landlord, and the police. But they always foolishly announced their presence. Still Crane was careful to arm himself with two canisters of fear-toxin before answering it.

Crane had been planning to verbally harass whoever had come knocking. At the sight of who was there, though the insults died on his tongue. The person at the door fell forward, and Crane caught her and was rewarded with the scent of her hair. Even wet it was sweet. Crane pulled her inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and locking it.

"Ivy?"

Poison Ivy, using to his arm to remain upright, smiled at him sleepily. "Good morning, Jonathan."

RISE

_A couch, a TV that played all of ten channels, four of which were church sermons, that was Arkham's rec-room. Inmates, if they were very good, were allowed to bring the books they checked out from the library there to read. Jonathan Crane gave up psychologically torturing the sheep around him for that privilege._

_One he wouldn't normally partake in but his new rec-room time had only easy to bully d-list costume criminals, and non-costume criminals. Crane ruled there and therefore, got the couch to himself. The couch was slightly more comfortable than the thing the staff claimed passed for a mattress, making it the more ideal place to read. For that alone Crane behaved._

_Today, he had begun Pride and Prejudice, and was already well on his way to hating Mrs. Bennet when the door opened._

_The sheep were already here. Either someone was leaving early or they were getting a new friend._

"_You've got the rest of the hour, Isley."_

_Damn._

_The others showed they had a modicum of intelligence by not commenting on Poison Ivy's arrival. Damn again, if she'd attacked them Ivy would have been out of here and Crane wouldn't have had to deal with the feminist eco-freak. Their brains would turn on at the most inconvenient moment for him. Such was the luck of Jonathan Crane._

"_Shove over, Crane."_

_Ivy leaned against the back of the couch smiling down at him. Crane liked to think himself above those weak men struck dumb by a pretty face. He was not entirely immune. If he was honest with himself, smiles from pretty members of the opposite sex still made him blush like a school-boy. Boobs garnered the same reaction from him. Thankfully, attractive females never smiled at him –and he made a point to avoid boobs- so he could lie to himself. Despite those lies, Crane had to admit, Ivy was stunning._

_Genetics were evil. Why couldn't everyone look exactly the same? And who had deemed that some people should blush when they were embarrassed more than others. That was a horrible idea._

"_Crane," said Ivy. "Move over."_

_Crane blinked. Just another reason to damn beauty to Hell, it had distracted him._

"_I'm being nice and sharing, if you'd prefer the floor that's fine with me."_

_Crane repositioned his bones and skin, so that he was seated upright. Ivy hopped over the back and settled back on the couch. "Pride and Prejudice, I'm surprised."_

"_Do not read into it. The library does not have any books that interest me. Calling Arkham's library's collection of books pitiful is generous. This is at least a classic that I have heard is well-written and will hopefully distract me from the tedium here for the time being."_

"_It's one of my favorite Jane Austen books. What do you think?"_

"_Mrs. Bennet is an idiot, an annoying idiot."_

"_Aren't all idiots?"_

"_Touché."_

"_Wait until you meet Lady Catherine de Bourgh."_

"_I'd like to go back to reading it."_

_As though she had not heard him, Ivy continued. "You'll want to break into the book and strangle her."_

"_If I was going to go to the trouble of figuring out a way into the book, I feed Mrs. Bennet and if she is even half as annoying this Lady Catherine, their worst nightmares."_

"_If you do, take me with you. I'd love an opportunity to castrate Wickham."_

"_Is he also annoying?" Crane asked._

"_No, he's a pig."_

"_I take it pig is used as a synonym to describe male character you didn't like."_

"_You took it correctly."_

_Crane shrugged, "I'll be sure to take you with me then. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to continue reading it now."_

_Ivy scooted over to him, and reached for the book. Crane pulled it out of her reach. "What are you doing?"_

"_I want to read it with you."_

_Crane brought the book back, and held it between him and Ivy. Without warning, Ivy scooted the rest of the way over and leaned against Crane's side, and pulled one of his arms around her. It froze him effectively, and sent his blood shooting up to his face. _

_If Ivy wanted to steal the book and steal the book and kick Crane off the couch, she'd have minimal trouble. Crane wasn't aware of that possible danger, his brain was too busy trying to process the fact that there were boobs touching him. That Ivy was willingly this close to him, leaning against him with her soft body, boobs, and delicious scent._

_Ivy laughed. That got Crane's brain working on more important things again. He leapt off the couch, dropping the book in the process. That just made Ivy laugh harder._

"_You know what, you can read it," Crane snapped._

_Ivy laughed again. "I'm sorry, that was mean…"_

"_Yes, it was," Crane sniffed. Then he realized that made him sound pathetic, and decided it was best to just glare at Ivy. She was not cowed, though she did sober._

"_I didn't think you'd react so strongly Jonathan, I'm sorry." That apology sounded a lot more heartfelt. Crane didn't believe it though; beautiful women like Ivy were excellent liars. "Look if you're too scared…"_

_Crane's glare would have burned down Arkham if he had pyrokenetic powers._

"_If you don't want to read it with me, I'll leave," Ivy offered._

"_That's not necessary," said Crane. Stiffly, he came back to the couch, retrieving the book on the way. This time Ivy only came close enough to read the book with him._

RISE

Jonathan's bathroom was tiny, his shower was even smaller. All the same, the water was hot albeit the spray was a bit uneven, and for that alone Ivy was grateful. Not trusting the hot water to last, and not wanting to use it all up in case Jonathan wanted to take one in the morning, Ivy was quick. She stayed in only long enough for her teeth to stop chattering, and to clean the gravel from her hands, arms, knees, and ankle. An ankle that now that she really looked at it was blue, purple and three sizes too big. It was a wonder Ivy had managed to limp here.

Clean, Ivy turned off the water, and limped out of the shower. Jonathan had, after helping Ivy to his bathroom, gotten her a towel and that was probably his entire wardrobe of clean clothes. Ivy was never going to fit into Jonathan's pants. But one of his shirts, that worked. And his boxers had an elastic waistband and therefore, stretched. After donning pair of socks, and a sweater, Ivy limped out of the bathroom, the rest of Jonathan's clothes folded in her hand.

Jonathan's apartment was all of one room, and a bathroom. So technically, two rooms. Mostly it was full of experiments, and chemicals that were in carefully contained. In the midst of it all, Ivy did spy a mattress, covered in a variety of blankets. Jonathan sat on it, reading.

"My wet clothes are hanging up in the bathroom," said Ivy. "They should be dry by morning."

"Should be," Jonathan echoed. "I made you tomato soup. It's from a can, but it's all I have."

"It's fine," said Ivy "Where do you want these?"

Jonathan got up, and crossed the room. "I'll put them away."

Ivy thanked him, and limped over to the kitchen counter. As promised there was a bowl of warm tomato soup waiting for her. Ivy made tomato to die for. It had ruined all others for her, to the point that the soup Jonathan made tasted only slightly better than the slop Arkham provided.

But it was warm, marginally healthy, and Ivy was starving. Plus Jonathan had made it for, and it would be rude to refuse the meal.

The man in question was back, leaning against the table, watching her. When Jonathan wanted to stare intensely, he did. It was a tad unnerving, the lack of blinking. "Sit down; I'll wrap your ankle for you."

"Thanks," said Ivy. Careful not to spill her soup, she limped over and sat down.

Jonathan crouched down and pulled off her sock. "What are you doing here Ivy?"

Ivy had expected the question, had expected it earlier actually. After all she'd all but fallen down on Jonathan's floor. But he'd just led her to the bathroom with a comment about how she could easily catch a cold. Ivy had been too cold, tired and grateful to stop and explain the reason for her visit.

Now Ivy was warm, revitalized from her shower and owed Jonathan an explanation. "The Joker broke Harley out of Arkham today, or well, yesterday now. I escaped in the chaos, but was injured."

"How did you find me?" Jonathan asked. He took her ankle between his hands; they were cold and felt good against the hot, throbbing pain. Gently, he prodded Ivy's ankle. She swallowed the pain, and refrained from flinching.

"Nigma, I knew about one of his old lairs, and went there to see if there was money or food or weapons I could use. Nigma was there, and gave me your address and gun."

"That was generous of him," Jonathan commented.

"He owed me," said Ivy, shrugging.

Jonathan nodded, "I think you're ankles sprained. I'll wrap it, there's ice in the fridge, and you can have the mattress."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed Jonathan. I'm tough enough to rough it out with a blanket."

Jonathan blanched, "I wasn't implying that. I wasn't going to sleep anyway, so it's pointless for you to sleep on the floor."

"We could also share the mattress, there's more than enough room," Ivy suggested.

Jonathan glared at her. "I'd prefer to wake-up after several hours, and not be killed in my sleep for accidently groping you."

"Would it be an accident?"

"Of course."

"You'd never do it because you wanted to?"

Jonathan went back to glaring at her, though this time he blushed. Being vague and teasing him, while fun, was mean. Ivy was the one with the crush, she'd come here to confess, to ask if he wanted to start a relationship. One that was good, mutual and healthy. If he did, wonderful; if he didn't, Ivy would move on.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan. I'm here to confess."

"You'll need a cop or a priest for that."

"To confess that I like you, and if you feel the same way, I'd like to start a relationship with you," said Ivy.

Jonathan Crane and love-confessions did not mix. The man had no experience with them other than a truly pathetic on he'd given his freshmen year of college. Crane liked to pretend that memory was a nightmare and nothing more, and therefore, didn't count it. Only now, he was the one being confessed to. Ironic, since he was on his knees before Ivy.

Ivy!

Poison Ivy!

Considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, Poison Ivy, wanted a relationship with him. This was a dream, or a joke, yes a joke.

A cruel joke and nay moment the Joker was going to burst in with camera. No, Ivy despised the Joker. Okay, so the news would burst in with a camera. Crane could see the segment now.

"Scarecrow believes it's his lucky day."

And he had. For one moment, Crane had seen them together, a relationship with Ivy working out. How he had no clue. But he'd wanted it. Because Ivy was smart, beautiful funny and… Crane blinked, despite her teasing, Ivy was nice to him. Something he'd always craved in a locked away corner of himself. If he was ever to have a relationship he wanted it to be with someone like Ivy.

Except that wouldn't happen because women like Ivy didn't want bone-bags like Jonathan Crane was. They sold their bodies to men with bank-accounts that weren't ashamed to stand next to Bruce Wayne's. Except Ivy wasn't like those women, she despised those women, she'd kill Jonathan for thinking that. Ivy was smart, a botanical genius… Smart girls liked smart boys…

So maybe… Maybe this wasn't a joke. Maybe a relationship with Ivy, something he'd never entertained it was so preposterous but now really, really wanted. Maybe it was possible.

"Really?" Crane chocked out. "Really?"

"Yes, I would like to try."

"We're both wanted fugitives, some of the most feared villains in Gotham," said Crane. "Normal people can't make a relationship work. How are we supposed to?"

"I don't have all the details worked out," said Ivy. "I haven't dated in a while."

"I've never dated period," said Crane.

"We can take things as slowly as you want," said Ivy.

"Slow, slow is good," said Crane. "Wait? You want to have sex? Tonight?"

"If you like," said Ivy. "I'm happy to wait as long as you want."

"I need to go brush my teeth," said Crane, and ran for the bathroom.

Ivy decided to take that as a yes, Jonathan wanted to have sex tonight and hobbled over to the mattress to wait for him. Shortly, Jonathan exited the bathroom; he looked around wildly for her a second. Ivy was about to tell him where she was when Jonathan spotted her. She hadn't thought he could blush anymore, she'd been wrong.

And he blushed even more when she beckoned him to her with one finger. Obediently, Crane came over and joined her on the mattress.

"It will be really bad, I haven't done it in ten years, and I only actually did it three times…"

Ivy put a finger to Jonathan's lips. His babbling stopped, and Ivy removed her finger, replacing it with her lips. Jonathan's lips were smooth, and his breath minty. That being said, it soon became Jonathan really didn't have any idea what he was doing when it came to kissing. That was alright, Ivy was happy to teach him.

"You see," said Jonathan, pathetically. "You see I'm horrible and…

Ivy ran a hand up the Scarecrow's thigh; like with a finger to lips, that shut him up.

"Men are always allowed to teach women about sex," said Ivy, distastefully. "Why can't a woman not teach a man? I like you Jonathan; I'm not going to stop because you're inexperienced. I'll teach you everything you need to know."

"T-That's a good point."

RISE

_Being fast readers, Crane and Ivy finished several chapters of Pride and Prejudice before the guards came to collect them. Cooperatively, both inmates got up and presumed the position to be handcuffed._

"_What did you think?" Ivy asked._

"_I am surprised you like Mr. Darcy after his remark that Elizabeth Bennet was unattractive."_

_Ivy rolled her eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, Jonathan, I do not hate all men who do not bow down and worship women."_

"_He insulted a woman though," said Crane._

"_There is a difference between insulting a woman by saying she cannot perform a task because of her gender, then voicing an opinion about her physical appearance."_

_Crane had never expected anything Poison Ivy said to make sense to him. But she had, and now she was continuing to speak._

"_Mr. Darcy has the right to say he finds Elizabeth Bennet unattractive, though yes it is rude to say so to someone's face. However, I don't think Mr. Darcy knew she was there."_

"_I will finish."_

_Ivy looked pleased with the news._

"_Umm… Doctor Crane."_

_Crane looked down at the shaking guard, and smirked. "Are you cold, young man?"_

"_No, I mean yes…"_

_Arkham had been scraping the bottom of the barrel again; shame for the asylum, great for Crane's entertainment._

"_Dr. L-Leland is s-seeing you n-now."_

_The information was the not a worth a response. Especially when the guard began to sweat even more, waiting for Crane to agree._

_The guard's partner grabbed Crane's shoulder and securely guided towards the door._

"_See you tomorrow, Jonathan."_

_Crane blinked; he would see Poison Ivy tomorrow. Oddly enough, he looked forward to it._

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

**I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. I'm glad you liked it. Enjoy!**

He wasn't usually this warm when he woke.

Crane's apartment had crappy heating to start with. Throw in no fat to keep him warm, add a tendency to shuck off the covers, mix well, and one got Jonathan Crane waking freezing most mornings.

Aside from the obvious sex benefit, sleeping with Poison Ivy had even more perks. Her body heat kept him warm, and her body weight kept him from tossing around and sending the covers elsewhere. Still on the verge of being conscious, it took Crane a moment to realize what those perks meant. A man of his IQ couldn't remain pleasantly confused for long, though.

"We had sex."

Ivy had been having a pleasant dream about rose-bushes and wasn't thrilled to be brought back to reality. Seeing the stunned look on Jonathan's face, made her bite her tongue though; she could complain and nap later.

"Yes, we had sex Jonathan," said Ivy. "Considering all the screaming you did last night, I'd say you enjoyed it immensely."

To Ivy's delight, Jonathan blushed. She'd never seen someone's face go completely red before; lovely.

How did Ivy look so beautiful, all the time, Crane wondered? Even in the morning, with her hair ruffled from sex and sleep, and she was breathe-taking. In fact, she might look even more beautiful now.

"See something you like?" Ivy asked, stroking his face.

Crane didn't need a mirror to know his blush had darkened.

Ivy sat up and stretched, giving Crane a front-seat view of her breasts. He'd thought this morning couldn't get better. He'd been wrong. And last night, Ivy had let him touch them, taste them… She'd brought his hands to them and shown him what to do.

"You definitely see something you like," said Ivy.

"I wasn't looking."

Ivy smiled, "You're allowed to look Jonathan."

"I'm afraid the sight will turn my face permanently red," said Crane.

Ivy laughed, and pecked his lips. "You're regaining your sarcastic attitude, that's a good sign."

"No, that's a genuine fear."

Ivy laughed again, and lay back down. "Feeling calmer?"

"Getting there," said Crane, rejoining Ivy on the pillows.

Ivy said nothing more; she looked contented but Crane wasn't an expert on judging positive emotions. What if she wasn't content? What if she expected him to say something? Of the three times, he'd had sex in college, there'd never been a morning after. Not one where they lay in bed in a contented silence, at least. The first time had been at a party, and both he and the sophomore who dragged him into a closest had been drunk. They'd passed out afterwards; the next morning the girl had threatened to kill him if he told a soul, and kicked him in the balls when he asked if she had any STDs.

The other two times, the girl had kicked him out of her room. No morning after, awkward or otherwise, to prepare Crane for this. Not that he'd ever thought there was a possibility of this happening.

From soap-operas, he'd gleamed that this would be the time to kick Ivy out and then call a guy-friend to brag. But Ivy would kick him out his own apartment if he was lucky and turn him into compost if he wasn't, if he tried that. On top of that the only two men he could call were Tetch, and Nigma. Calling Tetch would just be weird, and Nigma would poke fun at his lack of experience.

"My knowledge of these sorts of moments is limited to soap-operas, and those options don't work for me."

"Good. Refuse to conform."

"Fight the power and the man."

Ivy laughed. "We need to get up."

"Probably. Yes. I've got a book to finish, and chemical suppliers to meet."

"I have to get back to a back-up greenhouse," said Ivy.

"Where is it?"

"Underground. Why?"

"With your ankle, it'll be hard to get around," said Crane. "I could drive you."

"I know how to hot-wire a car," said Ivy.

"I don't doubt that you do, but I already have a car, and committing a crime while injured ups your risk of getting caught," said Crane.

"I'll manage," said Ivy.

"You're not used to accepting help from people," Crane observed.

"No," Ivy mused.

"I'm not used to helping people."

"You seem quite adept," said Ivy.

"Do you want to shower first?" Crane asked.

"It doesn't matter," said Ivy. "What food do you have?"

"The only vegetables I have are frozen peas," said Crane.

"I robbed a vegetable stand on the way here," said Ivy. "They're in my coat. You could fry us some tomatoes for breakfast."

Ivy limped to the bathroom, leaving Crane wondering when he'd offered to make breakfast. Quickly, he went over the conversation in his head. Nope, no offer. Still, friend tomatoes would be better than the stale pop-tarts he had.

Crane pulled on his clothes. An easy feat, as they were all within arm's reach, and got to work.

Ivy had had the insight to leave her trench-coat outside the bathroom. Crane hunted through the pockets until he found the aforementioned vegetables. On his way to the stove, Crane checked the time.

2:30 p.m.

Three hours until he had to meet his chemical suppliers. While washing, and slicing the tomatoes, Crane went over his mental list of what he needed to bring, and debated whether or not it was time to cut ties with these gentlemen. They were often late, but the products were all good. With his luck, the next group of suppliers he got would be four worse. Still, the Scarecrow did not settle.

"The showers yours, Jonathan," said Ivy. "I can finish making breakfast if you want to shower."

Even with wet hair, she was towel-drying, Ivy was stunning. Crane was torn between wanting to ogle, and berating himself for being so weak-willed.

For a villain, Jonathan was easy to read. Not that staring, slack-jawed, while blushing meant a lot of things. He'd get mad if she teased him though, so she filed it away to use as a reminder for when he became too egotistical.

"I'll go shower," said Jonathan, and fled to the bathroom.

Smirking, Ivy continued breakfast.

Inside the bathroom, Crane stared at himself in the mirror. Not a pastime he usually took up. The sigh had never been good, and this morning was no exception. With the exception of hickeys, very messed up hair, Crane looked the same. Still scrawny still lanky; Crane looked away from the mirror striped quickly and hopped in the shower.

Ivy had come to him. Poison Ivy had come and confessed to him. They'd had sex, and she hadn't gone running for the door. That counted or something. A tad more confident, Crane hopped in the shoulder.

A brief but vigorous cleaning of his hair and body parts later, Crane exited the shower. Pulling on his old clothes wouldn't continue to keep him clean, and smelling decent, at least. But Crane hadn't thought to grab clean clothes before, and he wasn't leaving the bathroom in a towel.

Ivy had finished breakfast, and sat on the counter already eating. "Your plate is on the table."

"Thank you," said Crane.

For January, the tomatoes tasted good. Perhaps Ivy had done something to them. She could control plants; it was possible she could make vegetables taste better just by telling them to.

Ivy hopped down from the counter, and limped over to the fridge, depositing her plate in the sink as she went. Did she expect him to wash that? Well, she sort of was a guest and one picked up after guests. And considering Ivy's feminist principles, she'd probably kill him with the plate if Crane told her to wash it.

Best to just wash the dishes himself; it was only one extra plate after all.

"Did you say there's an ice-pack I can use, Jonathan?" Ivy asked.

"Like I said I have frozen peas, but that's it," said Crane.

"Those work." Ivy fetched said peas, and returned to her counter, where she applied them to her ankle.

"Does you ankle feel better?"

"A little."

"Would you like me to wrap it again?"

"No, I can do it."

Crane finished off his tomatoes. What was he supposed to say to her? What did normal people say in these situations? This wasn't a one-night stand, hopefully. Ivy had said she'd wanted a relationship… So, what did normal people do when they were dating it was the morning after?

Talk.

Yes, talking worked; communication is key. Now he just needed a topic.

"What was the name of series with a female serial-killer you told me about?" Ivy asked.

"The Gretchen Lowell series, by Chelsea Cain," said Crane.

"Now that I'm out, I'll give it a read."

"Good," said Crane. "So uh… Now what?"

"Did you just quote House?" Ivy asked.

The situation between House and Cuddy were very similar to Ivy and himself, Crane realized. "I did so unintentionally."

Ivy smiled, "I thought we could play things by year. We've had sex, let's try going on a date."

"We could go to the movies," Crane suggested.

"You like movies?" Ivy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When I need to kill time, I've found the movies are a good way to do so. They're dark, and relatively uncrowded so long as I go to a movie a week or so after it's been released. There's a little theatre I frequent from time to time, that shows re-runs of old horror movies," said Crane. "This Saturday there's a showing of "You Next"."

"I remember seeing the trailers for that," said Ivy. "Very well, the movies it is."

"Great," said Crane.

They'd arranged for a date; in only a few sentences, too. That was easy. Crane almost smiled dreamily in relief; only the idea of how painfully burning himself alive for such a sappy act kept him from doing so.

"What time?" Ivy asked.

"It starts at nine. We could meet at 8:45."

"Sounds good to me." Ivy hopped down from the counter and kissed him.

Crane hadn't expected it, and jumped. He could feel Ivy pull back, and quickly kissed her back. Whether he did anything right, Crane ahd no idea, but he tried to mimic the movements of Ivy's lips the night before.

Wow, Jonathan," said Ivy. "You're a fast-learner."

"That was good?"

"Yes," said Ivy, proudly. "I'll see you Saturday, we can practice more then."

"Great."

Poison Ivy thought he was a good kisser; getting to be a good kisser, anyway. So this was what male pride felt like.

Someone knocked at his door.

"I'll get it," said Crane, dropping his voice to a whisper. "It's probably my land-lady; you're more recognizable than I am."

Ivy slipped into the bathroom. Armed with fear-toxin, Crane opened the door.

The Riddler stood in his doorway. "Have a nice night?"

Crane pulled him inside. "How did you know?"

"You and Ivy whispering back and forth in Arkham for months. Ivy shows up at my door, and asks for your whereabouts, and… You just told me," said Nigma.

Crane cursed himself for falling for that.

"I made donuts," said Nigma, holding out the box. "Now that you're having sex, I'm sure Ivy would appreciate a less bony you."

Crane took the box, and hit Nigma with it.

"Oww."

Happy that he'd caused Nigma pain, Crane set the box down. The donuts inside it looked tasty; he selected a jelly one.

Ivy exited the bathroom, "Afternoon, Nigma."

"Ivy," said Nigma, inclining his head.

"I was just leaving," said Ivy. "Enjoy talking about sex."

Crane blushed.

"I wasn't…" Nigma began.

"That's what men do, they sit around and talk about sex and how manly they are just because they had sex," said Ivy. "You'll understand if I don't' want to be around."

"I wasn't here to do that," Nigma protested.

"Of course not," said Crane quipped.

"Honest. I'm here to mock Jonathan, and him alone," said Nigma.

"I will see you Saturday, Jonathan," said Ivy. "Good-bye, Nigma."

Ivy left the apartment.

"Are you suicidal?" Crane asked, rounding on the Riddler.

"Really, Crane," said Nigma, "As if I would be stupid enough to come here without insurance. Where's your chess-set?"

"The Bat smashed it."

"Good thing I brought my own," said Nigma. The Riddler moved to set up the pieces. "Here's the deal, for every game I win, I get to ask you one question. For every piece you take that is not a pawn, you can ask me one question. If you win, I'll tell you my insurance."

"What could I possibly want to ask you?"

"Door codes, for one," said Nigma. "You said you were planning to rob Moore Chemicals."

Annoyed Nigma had a good answer, Crane grabbed his pieces and set them up. One game alter, Crane ahd several door codes, knew who to steal passes from where best to do the stealing, and had been emailed a set of the buildings blueprints. Something his own henchmen ahd failed to get in a month's time. But Nigma had won.

"What do you want to know?"

"How many did you have sex before Ivy?

"Three."

"I owe Jervis one hundred dollars," Nigma mused.

"I'm glad Tetch believed in me."

"I said it wouldn't count if he'd contributed," Nigma quipped.

"Let's just play another game."

Nigma won again, though as a consolation prize Crane knew everything he'd need to, to rob Moore chemicals.

"How long between Ivy and the last girl? If it was a girl."

"I hadn't had sex since college," said Crane. "Half-way through senior year, and my partners have all been female."

Nigma smirked, "Tetch owes me two hundred."

Crane glanced at the clock. "Leave."

"Don't you want to know the best way to rob Wayne Tower?"

"Even if I did, I have chemical suppliers to meet with," said Crane. "Now shoo."

"Oh, yes, my insurance," said Nigma. "I'd say it's worth at least one more question, but if you'd like to risk it…"

"Either tell me, or leave," Crane snapped.

A glance out the window told Crane it had started snowing. Great. He had gloves around here. Somewhere.

"What's helpful, a traitor, and will be expiring shortly?"

Crane tried to hit Nigma with the chess board. "English."

"I am speaking English. Would you prefer old English? I'm fluent in that too," said Nigma, smugly.

Crane glared.

"Your chemical suppliers were busted by the cops last night," said Nigma. "They made a deal to roll over on you."

"The GCPD will be waiting," said Crane. "I guess I do have time for more chess."

RISE

_The guards, who escorted Crane to the rec-room, had made him late. Texting on the job took precedence, apparently. For taking away Crane's precious rec-room time, the Scarecrow planned to torture them, and the sap they'd been texting, until they were insane enough to eat their phones._

_Being late also meant Poison Ivy arrived before him. Now she hogged the couch, Crane shot her a dirty look for being a hypocrite._

"_If you want to sit down, ask nicely, Jonathan," Ivy purred._

_Swallowing all his pride, hatred, anger and desire to create a fear-toxin that affected her, Crane forced out: "May I please sit down?"_

"_Well, I'd prefer for you to sound a bit more pleasant, but it's a start." Ivy tucked her beautiful legs under her, giving him room._

_Silently, Crane fumed at himself for thinking Ivy's legs were beautiful, at the guards for making him late, at the Bat for catching him. Still seething, he took a seat, as far from Ivy as he could. "If you don't want to hear my voice, don't talk to me," Crane snapped._

"_I was objecting to the clear desire to strangle me in your voice," said Ivy. "Not saying that it's a bad voice. A tad raspy, perhaps."_

"_I like it that way, its creepy," said Crane._

"_If you say so," said Ivy._

"_Are you implying it isn't?" Crane demanded._

"_I suppose, you're very touchy, aren't you?"_

"_I'm the Master of Fear, all should cower before me," said Crane._

"_Did you purposely try to make your voice creepy?" Ivy asked._

"_No."_

"_Really? Seems a tad convenient that the Master of Fear has a raspy voice he, and a large percentage of Gotham think is creepy."_

"_Seems fitting to me," said Crane._

_To Crane's relief, Ivy changed the subject. "Did you finish Pride and Prejudice/"_

"_I did," Crane didn't tell her he'd been up all night doing so. Not because the read had been good, more that nightmares had struck. The Scarecrow wasn't going to take the risk of having some pathetic, measly, brain-damaged guard would hear him cry, and beg in his sleep._

"_Why do you read horror books?" Ivy asked. "Do you like being scared?"_

"_How do you know I like them?"_

"_I saw you reading one at the library," said Ivy._

"_Were you spying on me?"_

"_I go to the library for my own reasons," said Ivy. "I saw you, had no reason to talk to you, and left."_

"_I don't believe you, I would have noticed," said Crane._

"_Or you're just not as observant as you think you are," Ivy replied._

_Unfortunately, when he was reading, Crane wasn't as observant as a villain should be. Not wanting to admit the fact, Crane did as Ivy had, and changed the subject. "I hear the GCPD brought you in this time."_

"_They did," said Ivy. Unfortunately, she didn't sound bothered by it. "And I'm capable of getting my own revenge, should I choose to."_

"_I wasn't going to offer," said Crane._

"_You didn't answer my last question," said Ivy._

_Crane didn't want to answer on principle. However, Ivy decided whether or not he got to sit on the couch. For now anyway. And it wasn't like he disliked talking about books, and the reasons he liked them. "I like to see how people respond to fear."_

"_Of course," said Ivy._

"_Did you expect differently?"_

"_No," said Ivy. "Do you have any recommendations?"_

"_The Gretchen Lowell series," said Crane. "There's a female serial-killer who plays a detective like a violin."_

"_I'll take a look."_

**Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

**Sorry about the late update. I hope you like the next installment.**

Half-way through lunch, Ivy's phone rang. One of the ferns on the counter picked it up and tossed it to the hydrangeas on Ivy's kitchen table. The hydrangea handed it over to her; Ivy smiled upon checking caller ID. "Hello, Jonathan."

"Hello. You called me."

"I did," said Ivy. "I staked out the theatre, and noticed there was a McDonald's across the street."

"And you want to destroy it," Crane finished.

"You read my mind, how useful."

"Not mind-reading, more I know your personality, and I know McDonalds is on your blacklist. Therefore, you're most likely mentioning it because you want to rob it, and not because you want to eat there," Jonathan explained.

Ivy smiled, "It's still useful."

"Do you still want to see _You're Next_?"

"Yes. This is still a date, after all," said Ivy.

"Yes." From his tone of voice Ivy could tell Jonathan felt awkward. Probably blushing horribly, too. She smirked. "Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Jonathan."

RISE

Ivy wasn't fond of winter. Nothing grew, people used more energy to heat their homes, and she just disliked the cold in general. The one good thing about the winter months was that bundling made disguising herself a lot easier. Wrapped in a coat, her hair hidden beneath a dark wig and hat with her face hidden by the aforementioned hat and scarf Ivy headed for the theatre.

Taking advantage of Gotham's public transportation system, Ivy reached the designated theatre in a timely fashion. Jonathan was easy to spot; few people were that combination of tall and thin.

Caught up in scribbling furiously away in a tiny journal, the Scarecrow didn't notice Ivy approach. For a moment, she lingered beside him; he didn't look up. She sat down, Jonathan scribbled away. How did he avoid capture for so long?

"Hello, Jonathan."

No response.

Ivy leaned over and kissed his check. That got a response.

Jonathan leapt up off the bench, twisting around, and flailing. "Just who do you think you are, kissing me? You should know better than to just kiss people. They could be dangerous, and take advantage. Besides, one should always have standards. Part of the reason STDs are so prevalent is because people have no standards…"

"I'm so proud of you, Jonathan."

"You know my name?" Jonathan looked gobsmacked, as the truth dawned on him. "I… Pamela?"

Ivy gave a little wave.

"Oh… Hi. You can kiss me."

"Good." Ivy pecked his lips. "I'd be very disappointed if that right was revoked."

Jonathan stood there, blushing.

"As cute as that is Jonathan, we should probably head into the theatre."

Calling Jonathan cute hadn't gotten his brain working. If one factored in how red his face was, they could make the argument his brain was being cooked by all the blood that rushed upward.

"Did you get the tickets, already?" Ivy asked.

"Yes, they're…" Jonathan fished them out of the pocket of his coat. "Is it alright that I paid for you?"

"It didn't insult my feminist ideals," said Ivy. "Next time, I will pay though."

The theatre, while small, did have some comfortable seats. Crane and Ivy chose two in the back. Soon to be shrouded in relative darkness, and behind everyone else, Ivy removed her hat. "I haven't been to a movie in a while. Monsters vs Aliens was the last one, Harley dragged me to it."

"What did you think?"

"In the end I was proud of Susan," said Ivy. "How did you find this place?"

"I read the papers," said Crane. "Three years ago, an eccentric lottery winner bough the theatre, and turned it into his personal horror movie hang out."

"And then started charging admission," Ivy finished.

"He advertised it being open to the public in the papers I mentioned earlier."

"I suppose it's good he's allowing others to benefit his misuse of electricity," said Ivy.

The lights dimmed, and the movie began. Over an hour later, the credits rolled, and Crane looked at Ivy. "What did you think?"

"I liked Erin, though there was little to not like about her," said Ivy.

"Nothing, that's why I hated her," said Crane. "What do you have planned for McDonalds?"

Ivy smirked, "You'll see."

"If it's like what you did to that PA six months ago, I want to know ahead of time."

"On my person, I have a several seeds," said Ivy. "When added to water they can grow into old oaks in a matter of five minutes. Do you have a plan?"

"No, but I can make one," said Crane. "I take it the trees will destroy the building."

"Yes."

Crane had studied the blueprints, and had a good mental picture of them. "I think the easiest way would be to just go in through the front door, posing as customers. I set off my fear gas, and while the customers and employees scream we can empty the till."

"And then I unleash my trees," Ivy finished.

"Exactly."

Ivy's smaller hand slipped into his, interlocking their fingers. Crane blushed, and looked somewhere that wasn't ivy's face. Lowering his eyes to her chest didn't help matters. Next Crane looked at their intertwined hands; Ivy's were beautiful. Slender, her skin creamy and unbroken; odd, one would think working with flowers Ivy would get cuts.

They felt strong, Crane noted. Stronger than his, probably. Though Crane had seen Ivy fight orderlies in Arkham; she could whump him without breaking a sweat. "Shall we?"

"We shall," said Crane.

Ivy smiled, "Your place or mine?"

"What?"

"After the heist we'll need to leave in a hurry so we won't have time to ask then," said Ivy. "Do you want to practice your kissing at your place or mine?"

"Mines closer," said Crane. "And I know the back-ways."

Ivy pecked his lips. "Great."

Crane wondered when he'd be brave enough to do that to her? On the subject of questions, when would he stop blushing when Ivy kissed him or touched him or smiled at him? Crane didn't have an answer to the first question. As the second, Crane had blushed when confronted with pretty girls his entire life. He had a feeling the curse would never leave.

Outside, the temperature had gone down into what felt like the negatives. Crane pulled his coat tighter around him, turning up the collar against the wind, and pulling his scarf up over his nose.

"Cold?"

"Every winter I wonder why I stay in this city," Crane muttered, though chattering teeth.

Ivy wrapped an arm around his waist. "You wouldn't be so cold if you had better clothes. You could probably find some at a shelter."

Crane laughed, "That would be both evil and pathetic. Though, I suppose we can't' all be Nigma and kidnap tailors whenever we need a new suit."

"Did he really?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," said Crane. "He held up a nail salon to get a manicure."

"I remember that."

"Not many for forget it, or let Nigma forget it," said Crane. "There is the McDonalds."

The fast-food joint in question lay across the street from them. After looking both ways like the responsible, intelligent grow-ups they were, the pair of villain ran across and inside their intended target. Mercifully, it was warmer inside.

Crane eyed the place. While not as crowded as he'd like, eleven or so patrons sat eating and/or waiting in line. A mixture Gothamites made up the lot several overweight men, a pair of teenagers, truck-drivers a security guard, and a hobo who'd managed to scrounge up five dollars.

Crane got in line behind the hobo and security guard. He noted the gun in the man's belt; he'd have to go out first. Crane pulled his hat off, and slipped into the pocket of his coat, exchanging it with a more terrifying head covering. From the other pocket of his coat, Crane pulled small canister of fear gas. Like all good predators, the Scarecrow waited until the opportune moment.

That moment came when the security guard turned away from the counter, try of food in hand, and headed for a table. Before anyone could comprehend what happened Crane had his mask on, the security guard had gotten a face-full of fear-gas and the Scarecrow had the man's gun. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery."

The Scarecrow got terrified stares, a few screams and one of the truck-drivers fainted. Oh, how wonderful. Now to make it better.

Crane emptied the contents of his fear-gas canister. The gas filled the restaurant, and both patrons and employees alike began to scream. Much, much better.

Ivy had checked bathrooms on her way to the manager's office. Both stood empty. The manager's office stood equally empty. The safe was hidden beneath the desk. Ivy pulled a dandelion from the pocket of her coat. The milk had been modified of her coat. The milk had been modified to become an acid. Ivy drew a circle around the lock; in under ten seconds flat, the lock had been eaten away, leaving the door free to swing open.

Bills, and probably the manager's stash of weed, sat in the safe. Ivy pocketed both.

By now people had started screaming. Ivy exited the office, at the same time two employees returned from a smoke break.

"Bad timing, boys," Ivy purred.

Screams drowned out Ivy's voice. Survival instinct told them danger was afoot. Ivy took advantage of that, and tossed a handful of powder into their faces. They collapsed on the floor, and Ivy returned to Jonathan. "Nice work, Jonathan."

"Yes, the two cooks in the back are down too," said Ivy.

So far so good; Crane didn't trust his good fortune. Quickly, he climbed over the counter; and kicked the two screaming employees out of the way. One register hadn't been closed yet, and Crane emptied it. Ivy followed suit, and opened the other three registers with a plant. Only one still had any money.

"Ready?" Crane asked.

Ivy drew several seeds from her pocket, "These'll grow quickly, get behind me."

Crane had just taken refuge behind her, when they heard sirens.

"Did we miss someone?"

"It hardly matters now." Ivy kissed the seeds and threw them ceiling-wards. They did grow fast. Ivy grabbed Crane's arm and pulled him towards the back door. Once through, they broke into a run.

"You said you knew the back ways?"

"This way."

Crane led the way down the alley pulling off his mask and hiding it up his sleeve. Years of being on the run had taught him how to do that without breaking stride. Just before the end of the alley, Crane pointed to a fire-escape.

"Climb."

Ivy shot up the stairs and the ladder what followed leaving Crane in the dust. To be fair he'd done the same to her when running or the ladder. Did dating mean they'd go to Arkham for and/or with each other. Crane didn't know Ivy's feelings, but he wouldn't' do so for her. Depending on his resources he might make a concentrated effort on getting her out.

Crane took off running across the roof, Ivy at his heels. At the other end, Crane stopped at a door that led to the building below. Before he could grab his lock-picks, Ivy ahd the door open. Okay, maybe he'd make a very concentrated effort to get her out of Arkham should it come to that.

Countless flights of steps later brought them to the first floor of an apartment building.

"Slow down," Ivy whispered, wrapping an arm around him. "We'll blend in more, if we look normal."

Not thinking about it, Crane wrapped an arm around Ivy's shoulders.

"They'll know it was us by now," Ivy whispered.

Crane smiled, picturing the look of horror Gordon would surely wear when the news reached his ears. Amusement couldn't last long, and Crane's fled when he realized something. "Batman will know by now, and unless the Joker just blew up City Hall or a hospital or Wayne Towers he's going to come tearing after us."

"And he has that annoying ability to find out hide-outs very quickly," Ivy muttered.

"Got any ideas?"

"Fighting," said Ivy. "Or we could go to my hide-out instead. It's far enough away."

A bright pair of head-lights turned onto the street.

"I guess fighting it is," Crane muttered.

Ivy had other ideas. She grabbed his coat, and kissed him. Her other hand took up hold on the back of his neck keeping Crane firmly in place. Getting that Ivy had kissed him to create the illusion of a couple, Crane put his hands on her waist and let Ivy explore his mouth with her tongue.

The Bat-mobile rolled by them. It had actually worked. Made sense, no one would associate two people kissing on a street with the Scarecrow and Poison Ivy.

Ivy hugged him, breathing hard. Crane too felt light-headed, and gulped down some air. "Wow…"

"Thank you, Jonathan."

"I meant, it worked and Batman didn't notice us," said Crane.

"Let's go before he comes back," Ivy whispered.

They continued their trek, Ivy's arm wrapped around his waist. How could she touch him so easily?

Crane had spent the entire movie trying to get up the courage to put his arm around Ivy. It'd always been her to initiate any physical contract. Still she'd wanted an equal partnership. For that to happen, he'd have to man up and touch her. They were dating, Ivy wouldn't kill him for holding her hand. Probably.

Getting his arm and hand to cooperate, proved to be difficult though. Sirens went off behind them, before Crane could regain control of even his finger, and successfully erased all thoughts of holding Ivy's hand. They also got his arms working again. Not that they now listened to him. Crane hadn't told them to reach into his pocket, for fear-toxin. But they'd done just that.

One cop exited the squad car. Taking on two villains at once. Foolish, very foolish. The reason for such stupidity became clear when the man stopped beneath a street-light. He wanted revenge.

"Scarecrow."

"Friend of yours, Jonathan?"

"Former test-subject," said Crane. "How does the trypanophobia treat you these days, Detective Anderson?"

"Trypanophobia?"

"Fear of needles."

"Ah." Ivy smiled at the cop. "And here I thought big strong men weren't afraid of little things like needles."

"You'd be very wrong."

Ivy took a step forward, "Surely the Scarecrow exaggerates."

Anderson levelled his gun at Ivy. "Stay back, Isley."

"What? Worried about little old me?" Ivy laughed, "You should be."

"But more worried about me," said Crane.

While Ivy had distracted Anderson, Crane had donned his mask, and uncapped a canister of fear toxin and tossed it at the cop. Gas poured out from it, and too late, Anderson held his breath.

Crane fled the scene, Ivy at his heels. Scream's followed them.

"How did you know him?"

"We spent two weeks in each other's company," said Crane.

"And he can still walk around?" ivy asked.

Crane laughed, darkly. "Not after tonight."

"Why do you let your test-subjects go?" Ivy asked. "Wouldn't killing them all be scarier."

"Not necessarily," said Crane. "Seeing a loved one as nothing but a drooling mess can make one feel hopeless, and torture them just as much as the death of a loved one."

"I see."

"It's also harder to dump dead bodies, than alive one," said Crane. "My alive test-subjects tend to wonder a bit before they're found, making it harder for the police, and our mutual friend to locate any of my lairs."

Ivy shrugged, "I suppose there are perks to assassinating in the field, and fleeing. Or killing from afar."

Poison Ivy's body outranked his by a fair number. And her methods did unseat Crane slightly; in a "he really hoped he didn't out like that" kind of way.

"My apartments two blocks this way," said Crane.

"Wonderful. We can go there and practice our kissing."

**Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman.

**Thank you for the reviews, favorites and follows. I hope you enjoy the next installment.**

The Scarecrow worked hard. Too hard. Not that he considered it work. More his art, his passion, his only love: fear, and the research of it. Unfortunately, his research also cut into the time he needed to eat and sleep. Now, it cut into the time he had for Ivy.

Having the symptoms of a workaholic herself, Poison Ivy kept hectic schedule just the same. Since Saturday, they'd communicated via texting. They'd also taken a half-hour Wednesday morning to walk through a park together, and drink coffee Ivy had brewed. It had been delicious.

Two days later, Crane received a text from Ivy.

"If you're available, would you like to have dinner at my place, Saturday night?"

A quick mental scan of his calendar told Crane he had no prior engagements. Well, he had planned to spend the evening with his current test subject and that could be rescheduled. Actually, the man had to be close to expiring. If the next batch of fear toxin didn't kill him, Crane planned to dump him… somewhere. Perhaps Joan Leland's door step, Crane had been meaning to do that for a while.

"My schedule is free. What time?"

"7:00 pm."

Ivy had called him with directions, that same day, and Crane had followed them to a T. They led him to a warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. There hadn't been instructions on how to get inside, though. Crane surmised that was because the door was useable.

He was wrong. Sort of.

The door worked, but it had been locked. Crane solved that problem in under a minute, and slipped inside. It was empty, with the exception of a car, and Ivy.

"Good evening Jonathan. Glad to see you found the place okay."

"Easily, actually. I've always been good with directions."

"That's a useful skill," said Ivy.

"It's served me well."

"Do you recall me saying my lair was underground?" Ivy asked.

Yes."

"I meant literally."

In the corner of the warehouse, Ivy opened a hatch. It descended into darkness, and it'd be a lie to say Crane didn't' have any reservations. Still he trusted Ivy. Maybe not entirely, or even fifty percent. Perhaps twenty percent… She could have killed him, abducted him, or done a number of other horrible things while he slept, but she hadn't. That counted for something. Hopefully.

"Are you going first?" Crane asked.

"Adhering to the age-old ladies first, Jonathan?" Ivy teased.

"More I've seen horror movies, and know better than to climb down ladders into dark places."

Ivy smirked, "What I have down there is way more terrifying and dangerous than serial killers."

That didn't make Crane want to go first. Ivy began her descent before he could suggest going out for dinner though. Wondering why he got into these situations –and why he wasn't leaving— Crane followed Ivy. Thirty rungs later –he'd counted— Crane's feet hit solid ground. His eyes had somewhat adjusted and when he turned around, he could make out Ivy's form.

Ivy took his hand, and led him straight several feet. There she must have hit a light switch, because the hallway lit up; just a small, dim glow, but enough for Crane to see by. He found himself staring at a hedge. One touch from Ivy and it parted.

Crane surmised he'd entered a living room, and kitchen combination. A couch, and walls lined with bookshelves made up the living room half; the kitchen little more than the needed stove, fridge sink and countertop. Plants occupied the rest of the place; most of them, Crane didn't recognize.

Whatever they were, though, they triggered his allergies. Sneezing followed.

"I can inoculate you against all plant allergies," said Ivy. "Take a seat."

Crane waded through the plants towards the couch; the sneezing worsened but he had no other symptoms. Aside from his nose –that now felt rather drippy— and his throat tickled like mad.

"Kay, roll up your sleeve."

Eager to get rid of his symptoms, Crane bared his left arm to Ivy. One brief sting from the needle later, and Crane had been inoculated.

"It'll take a minute or so to take effect," said Ivy.

Just a minute? This anti-allergy medicine worked fast. Ivy spoke the truth and in no time at all, Crane's symptoms cleared up. "How long will this last?"

"Your whole life," said Ivy.

Fast acting, and forever lasting. Crane wondered what the catch was.

"Hungry? I know I am," said Ivy.

He'd ask after dinner.

Ivy had sautéed peppers, onions, and mushrooms into a delectable smelling dish. Having spent the day brewing a new batch of fear toxin, half a slice of toast had been all the sustenance Crane had eaten so far. Hopefully, that would be rectified soon.

"Do you mind setting the table?"

Hadn't Ivy invited him over, thus making him a guest? In this society, in most societies, guests didn't have to work. Except here, apparently. If not for the delicious-smelling meal, that Ivy might not let him have, Crane would have objected.

"The dishes are in that cupboard."

Crane located the aforementioned cupboard. It didn't have a lot in the way of dishes. Villains on the run couldn't afford to get matching china. Plus Ivy probably didn't want to waste water by having too many unneeded dishes. He selected the needed plates, glasses, and silverware, and closed then cupboards.

One of the few, _few_, things his great-grandmother had taught him had been how to correctly set a table. It had been ages since Crane had put that training to any use. Still, the teachings rolled back, and Crane put the dishes in their proper place.

He'd just finished when Ivy set the sizzling skillet of fried vegetables on the table. Up close it smelled even better.

"Thank you, Jonathan." Ivy kissed his cheek.

They settled into their respective chairs, and took turns serving themselves. For approximately three bites they ate in silence, taking the edge off their hunger. Crane's nose had served him well. He couldn't remember when he'd had food this good. Two years ago, when he'd hit out with Nigma over Christmas. The Riddler's cooking had almost made up for how smug he'd been about his cooking skills. A smugness that had gone up when Crane helped himself to thirds of everything, and fourths of his favorites.

Before that… Perhaps the Italian place close to GU, that he'd frequented when he'd work there. They knew how to cook pasta correctly.

"Good?"

"Yes, very."

Ivy smirked. "So, how did your week go?"

It abruptly struck Crane how normal this was. Two people, romantically inclined, sitting down and eating dinner, discussing their weeks, work, future plans… Crane had to admit it was pleasant. Though he attributed that to this being Ivy. She had a way of turning things around for him.

"My chemical suppliers intended to turn me over to the GCPD."

"How rude."

"I've made preparations to get them out of custody, and explain just how rude they were," said Crane.

Preparations that had taken most of the week, left him several hundred-thousand dollars poorer, and owing Killer Croc a favor, but well worth it.

Ivy nodded. "Did you read the Harry Potter series?"

"I did."

"I'm well on my way to perfecting a tree that fights back," said Ivy. "We'll see how long illegal logging continues when the mahoganies can mutilate."

The companies would find a way around it. Crane chose not to mention that to Ivy. And he had to admit it would slow them down.

"What are some of the flowers here?"

"Which ones do you know?"

"I recognize the ferns," said Crane. "And the aloe."

Ivy eyed the aloe plant, proudly. "You know aloe is good for burns."

"So, I've been told," said Crane.

No need to tell Ivy that since leaving Georgia, he hadn't kept so much as a potted window plant. Starting now he could keep all the flowers and potted plants Ivy wanted him to. Within reason anyway…

"I have modified aloe so if you treat the darling correctly, it can heal the worst burns in under twenty hours," said Ivy. "If not, the juice will melt your flesh right off your bones."

"That will definitely get people to treat their aloe plants right," said Crane.

"I'm sure." Ivy blew her aloe plant a kiss. "I can get you one to take home. Brewing fear-toxin, you could hypothetically get burned a lot."

"I wear protection," said Crane. "And I'm worried I won't treat it well enough. I'd prefer for my skin to not melt off."

"They're very easy to maintain. Mine just need water once a week, and the occasion pat," said Ivy.

"The universe has it out for me," said Crane. "With my luck, it'll make the plant will hate me no matter what I do."

"I highly doubt the universe has it out for you," said Ivy.

"One time, Harley was practicing with a cross-bow two blocks away from me. The bolt somehow ricocheted to me and hit me in the… leg."

Behind actually, but Ivy didn't need to know that humiliating detail.

"I see," said Ivy, delicately.

Crane wondered if she knew the truth. He'd killed the back alley doctor who'd treated him, and made Harley swear not to tell a soul. Especially, the Joker. Course, Harley would tell the Joker anything, despite any vows she took. But if she had, the Joker would have spread the news around, word would have gotten back to him and he'd have moved to Idaho. Poison Ivy had been Harley's friend for a while though, and if Harley had told, she might not have spread it around.

"Are you all right Jonathan?"

"Just fine." Crane helped himself to seconds. "After experience that, I expect the aloe will hate me, melt my skin off and then you'll hate me too…"

"I'm not going to hate you," said Ivy. "I highly doubt the aloe plant will hate you either, so long as you follow my instructions. If it does, I'll nurse you back to health."

Crane would never admit it. Not even under torture and the threat of death. He'd willingly offer himself up to be Killer Croc's afternoon snack before owning up to this, but the idea of Ivy taking him care of him did sound nice. Maybe the food wasn't agreeing with him. Or he'd just eaten too fast; Crane glanced down at his empty plate, sadly.

"The aconite behind you," said Ivy. "It's naturally poisonous. I'm working on getting it to spit the poison at people, as well as increasing the toxicity."

Feeling that Ivy had too many bad ass toys, Crane decided to throw in his two cents. "I'm working on a new form of fear toxin that activates to specific scents."

"I can see the uses in that," said Ivy. "How is going?"

"Slowly, but I'm making headway."

Ivy nodded, "Would you like a tour?"

"What's the most…?" Crane broke off. "You robbed a jewelry store with the help of hedge tigers and elephants. Will I find more or less unnerving things in there?"

"More," said Ivy, without hesitation. "Much more. Do you want to do something else?"

"No, just needed a moment of mental preparation," said Crane.

More like six months, but Ivy didn't need to know that.

"Lead the way."

Ivy's apartment turned out to be more of a loft, in one corner of her greenhouse. They descended down to the greenhouse level, Ivy leading the way.

For the most part, Crane thought it looked normal. It looked normal. Sort of… Crane could identify the first part as a fruits and vegetable garden. Beyond that it became little more than an impenetrable wilderness.

Having tended a garden himself in Georgia, Crane could identify most of the vegetables present. "I take it you got dinner from here?"

"Yes," said Ivy, crouching down to pat on the squashes. "That's why it tasted so good."

"You can modify plants to taste better?"

"Of course. And to be more nutritious."

"That's very interesting."

"I've been working on ways to get tropical fruits to grow here, but haven't managed that yet," said Ivy. "With the exception of pineapples."

Crane had never particularly liked pineapples, but the fried vegetables he'd had for dinner had been delicious, so maybe pineapples by Ivy would be the exception. He'd give it a try.

"On with the tour."

Past the garden, everything resembled more of a jungle than anything else. A jungle made up of probably every growing organism, but a jungle none the less. In some spots, the plants towered over Crane's head. Some also had the disturbing tendency to move, and not just for Ivy. That Crane expected. He hadn't expected a vine to reach out and nudge him, when he past.

"Some of them are friendly," said Ivy, petting the vine. "Don't worry."

Despite that, Crane did see a method to Ivy madness. For example, the farther they went in, the more the plants moved and the more lethal they became. Crane had just met the hedge tiger who'd survived the jewelry store robbery, when they reached another hedge.

"Behind here I keep my most dangerous plants, both completed and works in progress," said Ivy. "Sure they won't scare you?"

"Are you actually taunting me?" Crane asked. "I'm the Scarecrow. Nothing scares me."

Scare, no. Unnerve, freak out, worry, and possibly cause him nightmares at some later date were still on the table.

"Well, if you're sure," said Ivy.

Behind Ivy, the hedge opened up enough for them to pass. Concealing his feelings of certain doom, Crane followed Ivy deeper into her greenhouse. If anything the jungle became denser. Here, it only came up to Ivy's waist, though. Over the plants, Crane could see the hedges continued in a long line. Since Ivy had said she kept her moth lethal toys here, Crane presumed it was for protection.

"More for a bit of theatricality," said Ivy, when he asked. "So I can pull away the curtain and have you be amazed."

Cane made himself a mental note to look amazed with whatever Ivy showed him.

"This one first." Ivy snapped her fingers and the hedge parted all the way.

"It's a pumpkin patch," Crane observed. The look of amazed, delight he'd seared on probably looked fake.

"I could hit myself," Ivy muttered. "Jonathan, I know you don't share my love of plants. Please know I won't kill you for not seeing the beauty."

"That's really great to know," said Crane. "You had another pumpkin patch back in your garden. I take it these will be special."

Ivy nodded, "Come October, they'll be just right."

"Going to turn them into carriages?"

"That's from Cinderella, right?"

Crane wondered if Ivy deemed that movie anti-feminist. If so, he prepared to run.

"It's not a bad idea," Ivy admitted. "I'll write it down.

"It wouldn't be the best escape vehicle," said Crane. "But pumpkins that turn into carriages have to have their uses. If simply because people wouldn't expect it, or know what to make it, and people fear both of those."

"I'll look into it," said Ivy. "I can always make a few modifications to the classic fairytale carriage."

"So, what will the others do," Crane asked.

"Eat people," said Ivy.

Crane wondered how that would be possible. Would Ivy give them a digestive tract? He supposed Ivy could make it possible, and glanced over at her. Poison Ivy moved among the pumpkins giving each one a pat and kind word. How was it that every time Crane looked at her, she looked even more gorgeous?

His brain supplied him with a number of logical explanations. She mixed some kind of love-potion in your food. She'd ensnared you with her kiss, and is slowly eating away your control. You're getting to know her better, and the better you know her, the more beautiful things young notice. Like the length of her eyelashes.

"Jonathan?" Crane jumped; Ivy had returned to him. "Shall we continue?"

"Lead the way."

Crane really hoped it was the last one.

Across from the pumpkins Crane there would be another plant. Ivy led him away from it though. "What's in there?"

"My Venus fly trap," said Ivy. "She's been rather moody, late, and tires to eat everyone except Harley and myself."

"Who comes down here apart from the two of you?"

"I do have henchwomen," said Ivy. "Most are in jail, and the last one went back to college. Work shouldn't interfere with a woman's education."

"Well, I'd like to avoid being eaten so I'll wait until your giant Venus fly-trap has past her teenage years," said Crane.

"More like infancy," said Ivy. "She's moody because she's teething."

"It… She has teeth?"

"She will, in a few weeks," said Ivy.

Crane hoped he'd never meet that Venus fly-trap.

"You could see Rose-Marie," said Ivy. "Do you know what a pitcher plant is?"

"Yes." said Crane. "I know that some eat mice and/or frogs. I take it Rose-Marie is a man-eating pitcher plant?"

"Actually an elephant-eating pitcher plant," said Ivy. "I plan to push Batman into it."

"It would be a fitting and for him."

"She's this way," said Ivy.

The hedge pulled away just enough to reveal a ladder. Ivy climbed up.

Crane really didn't want to go see giant pitcher plants that could eat him. But he didn't want to admit his reservations even more. With feelings of certain doom, he followed Ivy.

The ladder led to a platform, an estimated twenty feet off the ground. Over the side, Crane saw a very big pitcher-plant. Could be worse, at least the plant, Rose-Marie, didn't move. The vines that circled Rose-Marie did move though. Crane had a sudden mental image of them grabbing him, and tossing him in. He clamped down on it, and thought about the time he'd taken sweet revenge on one of his students who'd unscrewed the bolts in his chair. He'd been rather proud of that piece of work.

"The vines carry the food up for me," said Ivy.

"What do you feed it? Her?" Crane asked. "I doubt you have an stable of elephants waiting around."

"Swine," said Ivy. "Along with whatever roadkill I can get my hands on. A few hours from Gotham there's plenty of roadkill, and there are a lot of people who will drive dead deer into the city for the right price."

"Well, I look forward to when you eat Batman, Rose-Marie," said Crane. _And please don't eat me_, he added, silently.

"The others are works in progress," said Ivy. "We could head to my office."

Crane nodded in agreement.

Like all things associated with Poison Ivy, her office was home to a lot of plants. Though here they had returned to the potted variety. Again bookshelves lined a wall, the other line with tables. Shoved into a corner, Crane spotted a mattress.

"You sleep here?"

"When Harley's not over," said Ivy. She scribbled a few things on a piece of paper. "We can go back there or have fun here."

"By fun you mean practice kissing," said Crane.

Ivy smiled. "Do you want to be on top?"

**Thanks for reading!**


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